


Moving Forward

by vaughnicus



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Explicit Language, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Smut, like seriously these guys can't say anything without cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 03:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaughnicus/pseuds/vaughnicus
Summary: Richie saves Eddie, and everyone walks out alive, if not completely unharmed.Happy ending, right? Only, there's a loose thread or two...





	Moving Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this movie, fandom, and pairing have taken over my ENTIRE life. 
> 
> Have another fix-it! Yay!

Richie was in Hell.

The  _ fucking  _ clown had him paralyzed, floating above his friends, and it  _ hurt _ , but he didn’t care about that. 

They were dying. His only friends in the world were fucking dying, and there wasn’t a god damn thing he could do about it.

He could see them all clearly, preternaturally so, on the ground, between the spikes, and so small. Beverly was crying, Bill was screaming, Mike was pale and silent, Ben was desperately trying to reach everyone at once but he couldn’t, he was stuck. And there was blood, everywhere.

And Eddie… where was Eddie?

Oh. There. So close. Eddie was… looking at him. Staring, really. Tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something and-

_ No _ . No no nono _ nonono. _

Blood. Bones. Guts. A spike, piercing through-

_ Just kill me! You fucking coward! Just fucking kill me! _

Richie would be screaming if he could. And crying. He’d be tearing the clown’s heart out with his bare fucking hands.

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, and his friends were dying, they were  _ dying,  _ Eddie was dying, Eddie was  _ dead _ , Eddie was dead, Eddie was dead-

“-eep, Motherfucker!”

And Richie was falling. 

The force which which he hit the ground shocked him out of whatever fucked-up trance he’d been in. It had just been a vision. Or a premonition….  _ No. He’s fucking with you.  _

Pennywise was still there - damn. But…

Eddie was suddenly above him, eyes bright but concerned, and he was excitedly saying something, but Richie was still too out of it to really hear him.

He couldn’t even register his relief before a sick sense of deja vu hit him. He instantly realized this was the place Eddie had been when-- in the vision, and he grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and rolled without even being fully conscious of moving.

“What the fuck!”

He shielded Eddie barely a second before Pennywise’s spear/claw/whatever-the-fuck came whizzing through the air, inches away. Broken rock shot at them when it hit the ground. Richie let out a breath he’d apparently been holding, his hands shaking. His heart was galloping. 

“Eddie…”

“Holy shit, Richie.”

His hands acted without his consent, travelling over Eddie’s chest, his face.

“Fuck, Eds, are you okay? You’re okay, right?”

Eddie slapped him away. “Am  _ I  _ o - fuck’s sake, Richie!”

He was taking off his sweater. Richie’s brain was whirling.

“What - OW! Fuck!”

Eddie had pressed his sweater hard against Richie’s shoulder. He looked down and saw blood, and very slowly realized it hadn’t just been rocks that had hit him. 

“Oh.” 

Eddie glared at him. “Yeah,  _ oh. _ Jesus Christ, Rich, you were nearly killed!” 

_ Is that irony?  _

Richie laughed. He couldn’t help it. It sounded a little unhinged, and Eddie frowned.

“Come on, get up. We’re still in the middle of a battle with a fucking alien clown, after all.” 

Eddie pulled him up, causing Richie to bite back a pained groan. Eddie looked apologetic, but he didn’t say anything as he led Richie to a small opening in the rock that led to a pseudo-tunnel. It almost looked like stairs, Richie thought. 

“Can you get through?” 

Richie nodded, but glanced back before climbing up. He had a protest on the tip of his tongue before he saw the rest of the Losers heading their way. Eddie tried to boost him up, which would have been hilarious in any other circumstance, but as it was, Richie was beginning to realize he was in a lot of pain and couldn’t quite find it in him to joke. He still managed to reach back and pull Eddie through after him. The vision was still stark against the back of his eyelids. 

Eddie marched him down the little path and sat him against the wall. By the time they were there, Beverly, Mike, Bill, and Ben were all through the hole. 

“Richie!”

They all rushed to him. 

“Are you okay?!”

“Peachy keen, queen.” 

He contradicted himself by yelling, louder than he would’ve liked, when Eddie pulled his now very wet sweater away. 

“Fuck,” Eddie said, quietly and with a lot of feeling. 

“That’s-that’s a lot of blood.” Bill looked pale. “Eddie? Will he b-be okay?”

“The fuck are you asking me for! I’m a stupid fucking hypochondriac, not a doctor! Fuck!” 

Beverly moved in and set a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder, taking Richie by the hand at the same time. “Breathe, Eddie. He’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine, Richie.”

“Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. Marsh?” Uh-oh. He didn’t mean to slur so much. 

“Yes it is, Mr. Tozier.” 

“We’ve gotta get him out of here,” Mike spoke up, softly. “We gotta finish this.” 

Ben nodded, jaw firm. “Eddie, your sweater. Use it as a tourniquet. Stop the bleeding.”

Eddie nodded, looking like he was far away, but he began following Ben’s instructions, anyway. 

They started talking, making plans. Richie was having trouble following, so he focused on what Eddie was doing. Eddie, who was very close to him. Whose hands were all over him. Yeah, it fuckin’ hurt, but he leaned into the touch, anyway-

_ Don’t touch the other boys, Richie. _

He jerked away from Eddie’s hands.

“What the fuck, Richie?!”

Eddie looked mad for all of a split second, and then he actually  _ looked _ at Richie. He seemed… small. Smaller than Eddie had ever seen him. He was shaking all over, curled into himself, and so pale. Eddie moved close again, slowly.

“Hey.” He put a hand on Richie’s cheek. “Hey, look at me.” 

Richie did. 

“Richie, whatever  _ He’s _ telling you right now… whatever you’re thinking, or remembering, or hearing… whatever you saw… forget about it, okay? Don’t let that  _ thing  _ get to you. We’re here to kill it, remember? We’re going to kill it.” 

Richie took a breath. Nodded. 

“Okay. Now stay still. And, uh, bite this.” 

Eddie was holding the sleeve of his sweater in front of Richie’s mouth. He’d wrapped the rest of it back around his shoulder, with his belt - when the  _ fuck  _ had he taken it off - around that. Sighing, Richie took the proffered material between his teeth and braced himself. 

“Ready? One, two-” Eddied pulled. 

Richie arched off the wall, slamming his fist into the ground. Tears sprang to his eyes. His vision went briefly red. He spat out the sleeve, gasping.

“ _ Fuck. _ ” 

“Yeah.” Eddie winced. “Sorry. Can you walk?” 

Richie nodded. They could hear the rest of the Losers closeby, shouting. Eddie helped him to his feet, let him breathe for just a moment, and took off, Richie’s good arm around his shoulders.

Luckily, there wasn’t far to go. They rounded a corner and there It was. It looked… a lot smaller. Beverly, Ben, Mike, and Bill were… winning? They were screaming at It, hurling insults and fearlessness. 

Eddie stopped. “Make It small…” He whispered. Then, “FUCK YOU, CLOWN! YOU’RE JUST A WEAK FUCKING LEPER!” 

After nearly shitting himself, Richie got the idea. He motioned Eddie forward, and they joined their friends, creating almost a full circle. 

“You’re  _ nothing _ ! You couldn’t scare anyone!”

“You’re just a frail old woman!”

“A liar!”

“A bully!”

“Fucking clown!”

“Clown!”

“Clown!”

Pennywise shrank, and shrank, and shrank. If he could ever think back on this without immediately wanting to shoot himself, Richie might one day find it funny. 

They came to him with the heart. 

When Richie put his hand over it, he was thinking of Stan. 

Pennywise dissolved. 

It was over. 

… Or not. They stood around staring at each other for less than a minute before the entire fucking cave system began to fall apart. 

They ran. Eddie stayed at his side, supporting him despite the height difference, nearly dragging him at times when Richie lagged.

They were in the house; almost outside when Richie’s legs gave out. 

He went down hard and took Eddie with him. Pain ricocheted through his shoulder to the rest of his body. It was suddenly hard to breathe. And then Eddie was in his face, and he looked terrified.

“Get up, Richie! Get the fuck up!” He was pulling on him, trying to drag him by his coat, to no avail. “We’re so close, Rich! Get up! COME ON!” 

Plaster and wood rained down around them. Some sort of cabinet nearly took Eddie’s head off.

Why wouldn’t his  _ fucking legs work?! _

Ben was there, suddenly, moving Eddie aside and grabbing Richie under the arms, heaving him up and almost literally carrying him outside. Richie finally got his feet under him and they ran to the sidewalk, Eddie in front of them, all three dropping to their knees or - in Richie’s case - falling ungracefully to the ground. 

The Neibolt housed folded in on itself. The center of all their traumas for the last three decades just… disappeared, leaving an empty, unkempt lot. 

No one spoke for a while. They just stared.

Eddie was the first to move, crawling over to Richie. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Nnngh,” Richie replied. 

“Hey, stay with me.” Eddie patted his cheek. “Talk to me, Rich.”

Richie sat up. The world swayed. Eddie caught him before he knew he was falling, and Richie pressed his face into Eddie’s chest without even thinking about it. 

“Mike, where’s your car? We’ve got to get Richie to a hospital.” 

“Gross,” Richie said automatically, but his shoulder  _ was  _ starting to  _ really  _ hurt. 

“The adrenaline’s wearing off,” Eddie said quietly as Richie groaned into his chest. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay. Can you get up? Slowly.” 

He did try. He got to his knees, then his feet, with Eddie helping. He even did it slowly. But just standing up to full height shifted the muscles in his shoulder, and he didn’t even get a warning before the world went black. 

  
  


“... don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do now, my life was pretty well planned out before. Shitty, but stable. I mean, obviously I’m leaving Myra, you don’t go through the shit we did and go back to a relationship like  _ that _ , haha, but still, it’s pretty fucking intimidating changing your whole life. I have my company but I don’t even know if I want  _ that  _ anymore? I could sell it, get a pretty penny, but then what? Gotta do something... And anyway I can’t just-” 

“Y’talk too m’ch.”

Jesus Christ, was that his voice? 

“Richie?!” 

Something shifted on his bed. He was on a bed. He opened his eyes, winced, and closed them again. 

“Hiya, Eds.”

“Richie, thank God. You scared the shit out of us, man.” 

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled, instinctively, even though he wasn’t quite sure  _ how  _ he’d done that. “Wha’s happenin…?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Eddie started explaining, even though Richie had hardly understood himself. “Everything is fine, though. They had to do a little surgery. Your shoulder got pretty fucked. But you’re fine! Uh, everyone else is here, except Bill. We’ve been leaving in rounds to shower and all that. It’s only been a few hours, though.”

“Eeeedddsss.” Richie finally got his eyes open. “You’re talkin’ too much.” Only it sounded more like  _ mush. _ And hadn’t he said that already? “What’d - am I high?” 

Eddie laughed. “Uh, yeah. Pretty sure they got you on the good stuff.” 

“I feel floaty.”

“That’s good,” Eddie said, chuckling again. “Sorry I talk too much.”

“Don’t be sorry… I’m an asshole.” 

“Yeah, I guess you are.” Eddie looked oddly fond. “But you’re, y’know, our asshole.”

Something warm bloomed in Richie’s chest, and it wasn’t just the morphine. 

“I should let everyone know you’re awake. Including your doctor. Actually I should have done that as soon as you woke up.” 

“Eddie,” Richie whined. “Don’t goooo.” 

Eddie laughed, again. It was musical. “I have to, Rich. But I’ll be back, I promise.” 

“Promise promise?”

“Promise promise.” 

Richie fell asleep again with the image of Eddie’s smile in his mind. 

  
  


It wasn’t a hugely long stay in the hospital, all things considered. Far too long for Richie, but the doctors said he was healing remarkably well and let him go five days in. 

Everyone had come by multiple times a day to keep him company. Beverly brought him coffee every morning. Ben was always there when they were changing his dressings, and never once commented on the very unmanly sounds Richie made. Mike smuggled him dessert a few times. Bill brought him books and magazines. 

But Eddie… had been there the whole time. He’d been there beside Richie’s bed, or getting him a drink from the cafeteria, or fussing over his charts. He’d left only when (forcefully) prodded by one of the others, and Richie a couple times when he said he’d started to stink (he hadn’t). 

At first Richie had thought the Losers had appointed him to do it. You’re the medical guy, Eddie, stay with Richie, make sure he’s okay. 

But… it didn’t seem like it was out of obligation. And Eddie was a lot of things but, at least among friends, he wasn’t a pushover. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to. And… there had been moments… When Richie was in pain, and Eddie would call for someone while he held his hand and told him he’d be okay. When Richie woke up from a fitful sleep, confused and not sure where he was, and afraid, and Eddie would put a hand on his chest and speak softly until Richie came back to himself. 

… when Eddie thought Richie was sleeping and whispered,  _ “I could’ve lost you… That’s the worst thing… You’re here but sometimes I’m convinced you’ll be gone if I close my eyes too long… And I couldn’t handle that… I couldn’t… God, I’m such a mess.”  _

But Richie couldn’t dwell on that for too long. Because then, he might start to hope. 

So here he was, five days on, leaving the hospital under his own power ( _ I don’t need a fucking  _ wheelchair _ , Eddie, I didn’t even hurt my leg _ ), stitched up and in a sling, pills in his pocket, and wondering what in the fuck he was going to do now. 

Mike had come to get them, and they weren’t surprised to see Bill’s car pull up as well, carrying Ben and Bev, too. Everyone piled out. Ben grabbed Richie’s bag and swung it into Mike’s car. Beverly gave Richie a very gentle hug, her smile like the sun when she pulled away. 

“I don’t know if you’re feeling up to it… say no if you’re not! But we were thinking of going out to lunch… you know, to celebrate.” 

Richie laughed. “Bev, you have  _ no idea _ how tired I am of hospital food. And air.  _ Please  _ take me out with you.” 

And that’s how they all ended up at the one little Mexican place in all of Derry, eating too much, drinking too much (except for Richie - Eddie let him have one beer before rattling some numbers off about painkillers and alcohol, and for once, Richie just went along), and being entirely too loud, and probably obnoxious. But the tips made up for it. 

And then they were leaving, back to their home base, the Town House, and Richie found himself standing in his room, alone. 

He  _ almost  _ had time to think about it before Eddie came barging in, carrying with him a toiletry bag and a first aid kit. 

“What.” 

“You need to be under surveillance. You’re hardly healed. It’d be ridiculous to leave you on your own now.” 

Eddie’s words were confident, but he hadn’t really moved out of the doorway. Richie stared at him. 

“So you’re my personal physician now, huh?”

“Well, someone has to be. I mean, really, you probably shouldn’t have even been released - what? What’s so funny?”

Richie couldn’t help it. He was laughing, and the more he tried to stop, the harder he laughed. 

“God, you really haven’t changed, have you?” Tears were starting to gather in his eyes. “Good ol’ Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Eddie looked like he didn’t know whether to be offended or not. “And? Is - is that so bad?”

“No!” Richie gasped, trying to reign himself in. Laughing was actually pretty painful. “No. It’s not. It’s, uh. Nice. It’s nostalgic.” 

Eddie scrunched his nose up (adorably) and stepped forward. “Okay then. Well, that’s good, I guess. Come on, take off your jacket.” 

“Why doctor,” Richie needled, “are you trying to undress me? Very unprofessional.” 

Eddie just rolled his eyes, taking hold of Richie’s jacket collar and guiding it over his sling. He folded it and set it aside, then turned his attention to the sling itself. 

“Sit down.” 

Richie did so, raising his eyebrows. “Yessir.” 

Eddie slowly and gently took off Richie’s sling, keeping a hand on his elbow so it didn’t move. Richie swallowed dryly, suddenly very aware of how  _ warm  _ Eddie was, how  _ in his space  _ and unbothered he was. 

“I’d like to check your stitches, but I’m sure you don’t want me to, and they  _ did  _ just do it this morning, so it can wait until tomorrow.”

Eddie started to move away. 

“You can.” 

The words just slipped out. No way to stop them. Eddie looked at him like he’d sprouted another head. 

“I can what?”

“Check. You can… check them. If you want. That last nurse… haha, she was, uh.” Richie panicked. He didn’t have a joke. “Actually, she was pretty rough. So, if you want to, y’know, go over her work…” He dipped his head. Jesus, he was pathetic. 

Then there was a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re sure,” Eddie said. “Your main doctor was extremely competent, but like you said. The nurse.” 

He turned and walked away, and Richie felt his heart sink, but he was just going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He returned quickly, face all business, and… started to unbutton Richie’s shirt. 

Richie hadn’t thought that far ahead.  _ Obviously _ his bandages were under his shirt. Duh. But it hadn’t registered that meant Eddie would be taking his shirt off. But here he was… 

He was so gentle. He took his time, glancing up at Richie every so often to make sure he wasn’t hurting him. He got to the last button and slipped Richie’s right sleeve off, easy as pie, as if Richie wasn’t having a massive internal battle with himself to stay calm. 

And then Eddie was touching him, skin to skin. His fingers danced around the bandage, finding a loose spot and peeling it back and off. 

“Looks good,” he murmured. “A little red but no swelling… no heat.” He set the bandage aside and splayed his fingers out, one hand over Richie’s shoulder and brushing his back and the other against his chest. 

God, Richie hoped he couldn’t feel his heart beating. 

Eddie continued his ministrations, prodding around the edges of Richie’s stitches, but never close enough to hurt. Not that Richie would have noticed. He was too busy trying  _ not  _ to focus on Eddie’s hands, and how smooth they were, how gentle, and how they were brushing all over his chest, and his neck, and his back, and  _ oh God  _

“Are you okay, Rich?”

_ Fuck! _

“Wh-what do you mean? I’m great. Super. Peachy.” 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Richie shook his head. “Are you hot? You look flushed. Are you getting shivery? Do you have a fever?”

Eddie’s pitch was rising. He was starting to sound panicked, so Richie grabbed his wrist and forced himself to make eye contact.

“I’m  _ fine _ , Eds. I swear. No fever.” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes wandered, back to Richie’s chest, his neck, his face. “Then why…” 

Richie’s grip on his wrist tightened, and then went slack, and then disappeared. 

“Thanks for checking me over, doc. Think I’m good, now.” 

He wouldn’t make eye contact. 

“Richie…”

“No, really, Eds, I’m good. You can… you can leave now. I’ll be fine.” 

“Richie.” 

His voice was firm. Richie looked at him. Eddie was still surprisingly close, and getting closer. His eyes were steely. He set a hand on Richie’s jaw. 

“Eddie…” 

Eddie brushed the old bandage aside and sat down, pressed up against Richie. His hand slid down to Richie’s neck. He looked briefly anxious, and then frustrated. 

“Damn it. We’re not teenagers anymore, Rich. We’re adults. You know… you know it’s okay, right?” 

Richie’s face felt hot. His throat tightened. He couldn’t respond. Eddie sighed. 

“Did you ever - did you ever consider that… you might not be the only one?”

Richie’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. “Eddie, are you saying what I think you are, because if not I might literally have a heart attack. I mean, I might anyway, holy fuck, but please tell me-” 

Suddenly, Eddie was kissing him. 

Holy shit,  _ Eddie _ was  _ kissing him _ . 

Richie shoved down his shock and kissed back. Eddie’s lips were soft - Richie’s were not but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He pressed into the kiss, wrapping his hand back around Richie’s neck, brushing the loose curls there. 

Richie grabbed Eddie’s shoulder with his good hand, holding tight, because if he didn’t have an anchor he might float away. 

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the moment, drinking each other in. 

Eddie started to pull away and Richie chased him, catching his lips again and moving his arm so it was around Eddie’s back. He opened his lips, a little, encouraging. Eddie responded in kind, and suddenly the room was ten degrees hotter. Eddie’s grip at his neck moved higher, and he grabbed onto Richie’s hair, tugging. 

Richie moaned. 

Eddied pulled away again, this time not letting Richie bring him back. 

“Fuck,” he said. His cheeks were red, his pupils blown wide. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed. 

Eddied scrubbed a hand over his face. “You have - you’re injured, Richie. You’re not - we can’t -” 

“Can’t what?”

Eddie blushed brightly. “Be too physical.”

Richie beamed. “You want to be?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tozier, would I have been making out with you if I didn’t?” 

Richie shrugged. And then winced. Eddie shot him a knowing look. 

“See?”

“All I’m getting from this is that you have to do all the work.” 

Eddie glared, and Richie laughed. 

“What? You a pillow princess, Eddie? That it?” 

“You are so going to owe me.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie was taking his shirt the rest of the way off (and yes, it had been half-on during all of this. Was that embarrassing? Richie felt like that might be embarrassing).

“Well, lay down.”

“What’s happening?”

“I’m doing all the work.”

Richie almost felt his jaw hit the floor. Eddie just glared until he laid back on the pillows, then immediately went for the button on his jeans. 

“Holy shit,” Richie whispered. “Holy fuck.”

Eddie smirked at him. He moved away to take both of their shoes off, then came back and stripped Richie’s jeans off with surprising efficiency. 

“I think I’m having a stroke.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He took his own shirt off and straddled Richie, leaning forward to kiss him deeply. He slipped a hand into Richie’s hair and pulled again, relishing in the desperate noise it caused. He moved lower, nipping at Richie’s jaw, and lower, biting perilously close to a nipple, and lower yet, until he was at the elastic of Richie’s boxers. He took his time then, dragging both hands up Richie’s thighs and kissing the trail of dark hair leading down. He took the boxers off slowly, dragging the soft material over Richie’s erection, down his legs, and dropping them off the bed. 

Richie was already squirming. His chest and neck were an angry red. Eddie settled back over him and Richie inhaled deeply, watching him settle between his thighs with ridiculously wide eyes. 

Eddie grabbed the base of Richie’s dick and wrapped his lips around the top, sinking about halfway down. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

Richie’s hips twitched forward, but he had enough self control to not choke his partner. 

Eddie smirked around the cock in his mouth and moved with deliberate slowness, dragging his lips over the tip and pumping lazily with his hand. 

Richie’s legs were already shaking. 

“Fuck, Eddie. Oh my God.” 

Eddie moved up and down a couple more times before sliding off. 

“Do you have lube?”

Richie nodded. “Y-yeah. In my bag. Front pocket.” 

Eddie slid off the bed. Richie made an unhappy noise but couldn’t complain too much. He reached down to give himself some relief but Eddie grabbed his wrist before he could make contact. 

“Nope. No work from you, remember? You stay still.”

Richie gaped at him. “You’re going to kill me.”

Eddie grinned. 

He retrieved the lube after some searching and returned, rubbing the travel bottle between his palms. He popped the top and drizzled some over his hand, spreading it messily over Richie’s cock before encouraging him to spread his legs. The way Richie so easily acquiesced made Eddie pretty confident, but he still had to ask. 

“Can I?”

“ _ Please. _ ”

Eddie wrapped his left hand around Richie’s cock, while his right moved lower. Richie twitched away from his touch at first, but as Eddie increased the pressure, he relaxed into it. A soft moan fell from his lips. Eddie worked his finger in. 

“God, yes. Fuck yeah, Eds.”

He moved it slowly back and forth, waiting for Richie to become impatient before adding another finger, at which Richie moaned loudly. He stretched them slowly apart, moving deeper, looking for… 

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

There.

Eddie picked up the pace, not thrusting so much as massaging Richie’s prostate, jerking him off with pressure  _ just  _ this side of rough.

Richie could barely hold himself together. He was dripping sweat, and Eddie had to lay over him to keep his hips from moving. He was moaning like a porn star, fisting the blanket under him with his left hand. 

“ _ God _ , Eddie,  _ fuck. Fuck. Shit. Oh my god. _ ”

Eddie moved faster. “That’s it, baby.”

_ “Please, Eddie. Please.” _

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Richie, come on.” Eddie was thrusting into the mattress, now, starting to gasp a little bit. “Are you gonna - ah, fuck - are you gonna come for me?”

Richie’s legs tensed. The muscles around Eddie’s fingers, too, as he made keening little pants that Eddie was going to lock away in his mind forever. 

“ _ Oh god oh god oh god-” _

Richie pulsed in his hand, spilling onto himself, Eddie working him through it as he felt his own center wind up and release, wetness seeping into his jeans. 

“Jesus fuck,” Richie whined, as Eddie continued pumping him through the aftershocks. “Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie panted out a laugh. “Yeah.” 

“I’ve been dreaming about that since I was thirteen.” 

“Expectations met?” Eddie questioned, nervously wiping his hand on his jeans. 

“Uh, exceeded. Blown out of the water. Completely obliterated.” Richie reached for him. “C’mere.”

“We can cuddle in a minute. I need to clean up.” … yeah. With the afterglow fading Eddie was starting to feel disgusting. “I need a shower.” 

“You don’t need…?” Richie’s eyes travelled over him, stopping at the wet patch on his pants. “Oh.”

Eddie’s cheeks burned. “Yeah, I, um...”

“That’s, uh. Really fucking hot.” 

Eddie blinked. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… cool.” 

Richie threw his head back and laughed. “‘Cool.’ Yeah. Cool.” 

Eddie smacked him lightly on the knee and stood, gingerly stripping off his jeans.

“Join me?” 

Richie almost fell off the bed in his haste. 

  
  


Beverly stepped lightly down the hall, balancing a tray dressed with juice and pastries in her hands. She stopped at Richie’s door, shifting the tray over to knock.

There was no answer. Beverly smiled softly. It was already ten but she was glad Richie was getting his rest.

The door was unlocked, so she opened it quietly, planning to set the tray on his bedside table and leave. She stepped towards the bed and stopped in her tracks.

Eddie and Richie were curled together in the bed, both topless, Richie’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist and curled protectively around him. 

Beverly made a happy noise in the back of her throat, grinning madly. She set down the tray and backed out of the room, carefully shutting the door before prancing down the stairs.

She came up behind Bill, seated in one of the armchairs in the living room, and swiped his shoulder.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” 

  
  


_ Aww, how sweet. What a nice little fantasy you made, Richie boy. _

Pennywise.

Richie’s heart slammed into his throat. He couldn’t move. It was dark.

_ Did you think it was real? _

The sensation of floating. No, this couldn’t be happening.

_ Poor little Richie. Stupid little Richie.  _

Eddie’s face, then, in front of him. Eyes open. Dead.

Wicked laughter.

_ It’s so much fun when you think you’ve won! So. Much. FUN! _

And then he was falling, and falling, and falling-

Richie spasmed awake, gasping for air. His chest was tightly constricted; he couldn’t get enough oxygen. His shoulder screamed. He flailed blindly; desperately for Eddie beside him.

Nothing. Empty space.

“No, no, no…”

He rolled out of the bed and onto his knees, hands curling into his chest and eyes darting frantically around the room.

He was alone.

“Eddie…”

A sob forced itself out of his throat, and he buried his face in his knees, crying like a child, shaking and sure he’d fall apart completely and never get up.

“Richie!” 

What…?

There were hands on him. Soft, gentle hands.

“Richie, oh my god, what happened? What’s wrong?” 

He looked up. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Rich, it’s me. I’m here, I’m right here.” 

Richie launched into him, wrapping him in a crushing hug, tears still flowing freely.

“Fuck!”

Eddie was clearly taken aback but he embraced Richie just as hard, running his hands soothingly over Richie’s back and shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, I was just - just in the bathroom.” 

“I thought - I  _ knew  _ \- god  _ damn it! _ ” Richie clenched his fists, digging his forehead into Eddie’s shoulder. “We fucking killed him and he’s  _ still  _ fucking with me!” 

Eddie ran a hand through Richie’s hair and sat back, bringing Richie with him. “It’s been less than a week, man. It’s going to take a while. Give yourself time.” 

“I hate this.” 

“I know.” 

Richie’s breathing was steadier now, and his hands had stopped shaking. Eddie pulled himself away but stayed close. 

“Are you okay?”

Richie snorted. “No,” he sighed, wiping at his face. “Yeah. Sorta. Fuck if I know.”

Eddie laughed softly. “Right? But, Richie… we will be. You know that, don’t you? We will be.”

Never in his life had Richie  _ expected  _ to be okay, but hearing Eddie say it made it seem within reach. 

“So… what now?” 

He wasn’t just talking about the rest of the day, and they both knew it. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted. “I… I really don’t know.” 

“Will you stay with me?” 

Richie hadn’t planned to ask. He hadn’t even thought about it. But he didn’t exactly regret asking, either. Eddie looked surprised. 

“You mean… like, in California?”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, I, uh. Well, I’d have to get everything in order. I have to actually file for divorce. And I’d have to move my company, or, I mean, maybe expand? I don’t know. Or sell it or whatever. And all my stuff is in-”

Richie took his hand, bringing it up to his forehead. He closed his eyes. “Please,” is all he said. 

Eddie paused, and then smiled, tenderly. “I would love that, actually.” 

Richie’s entire body sagged. He didn’t speak but his relief was clear. Eddie squeezed his hand. 

“Yeah,” he said, resting his cheek on Richie’s head, nestling in his hair; breathing in his scent. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This thing just didn't know when to stop! And there's still so much I couldn't fit in... Anyway, I hope you liked it. I'm sure I'll be writing more of these guys, I love them so freakin' much. Thanks for reading!


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